Shades of Black
by Probit Return
Summary: Hidden in the midst of the Windy City, a secret government agency exists. Fighting terrorists and fitting in with the public, it's all in a day's work. Side-story to Memories Upon Broken Glass.
1. Shades of Black

Author's Note: After giving a run through of my word document, I noticed several spelling errors, so I've corrected those. Though I've still probably got some hanging out. I've also taken the time to add a few little tidbits in. Nothing major has been changed, but it might be worth rereading for that if nothing else.

* * *

Shades of Black

Chapter I: Shades of Black

The sun shown brightly down on the city of Chicago as the people went about the daily hustle and bustle that was their lives. For most people, it was going to be a good day.

The sound of rotors splitting the airwaves could be heard overhead. It was an everyday occurrence for the people of Chicago. Helicopters passed overhead all the time in the Windy City; there was no need to gawk at the aerial objects that frequented the skies in some form or another.

But this helicopter was different. Its cargo was deadly, a one-man army, a ruthless killing machine, and it was ready for work.

A young boy, no older than 14, stared out the window of the black whirly bird, a slight smirk gracing his face.

"Remember," the woman next to him barked over the sound of the chopper, "the files are on the top floor of the building. Security is likely tight, so stay on guard. Kill anyone who gets in your way, and don't worry about hiding the bodies, you don't have enough time, got it?

"Got it," he responded.

"Good, we're almost there. Get ready," she ordered, handing him a large messenger bag, which he promptly slung over his shoulder, giving her a nod.

The helicopter stopped over a tall office complex, a front for the terrorist organization that owned it. The door slid open and a rope dropped out onto the roof. The boy wasted no time in sliding down to the roof, signaling the chopper to leave.

The boy laughed quietly to himself as he pulled out his pistol, a silenced M1911A1. _No security on the roof. That was too easy._ He quickly walked to the door that led to the top floor.

He placed a hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. After confirming the door wasn't booby trapped, he swung the door open, pointing his gun down the stairwell, walking slowly.

"I'm in," he said quietly over the radio.

"Good, but don't let your guard down because of the relaxed security on the roof," the voice of the woman crackled into his ear over the radio. "The files should be in a safe, and the security will be much tighter, so be careful. I don't want you missing any more school because the doctors are treating your injuries."

"Roger," he replied as he walked down the stairs to the bottom door.

He opened the door slightly, checking for patrol. Not spotting anyone, he opened the door fully, only to catch sight of a guard spinning around to face him. The boy popped two .45 caliber rounds into the man's torso before he could shoot or call for help. "First contact, took him down quietly," he radioed in. _It would take too long to check each room individually. I'm going to trust intel and listen for heavy security in the rooms. Rog better have done a good job._

The boy walked slowly down the plain tan halls, listening intently for people to talk in one of the rooms. Unfortunately, with his attention on the rooms, he didn't notice the guard behind him.

"Hey kid, what are you doing up here?" the man asked gruffly.

The boy's eyes bulged as he heard the man. He thought of a quick response and replied, "I'm looking for my father. He works here."

"Yeah, and what's his name?" the man asked, not buying the excuse at all. Then things got worse. "Hey, wait. What are you trying to hide in your hand there?"

In an instant, the boy spun to face the man with his Colt leveled at the man's head, his black hair whipping in sync. One short squeeze of the trigger later and the man was dead in a pool of his own blood. _That was close; I didn't even hear him come up behind me._ He continued down the halls, this time, paying more attention to his surroundings.

A short time later, he was stopped yet again, this time by what he overheard. "It seems we've been infiltrated. Two guards were found dead."

"What? How?"

"It doesn't matter, just find the bastard and kill him. If we don't, the boss will have our asses."

The boy didn't give them any time to talk further as he popped around the corner and put two rounds into each of the men before changing the magazine, keeping the last round chambered.

The radio crackled and the boy's handler spoke. "If they know of your presence, if might be a good idea to switch to your automatic."

"Right," he answered, easing the hammer back into its resting position. He placed the Colt back into its holster and grabbed his Glock 18, double-checking to make sure it was set to auto.

"Hurry up," his handler spoke again, "the longer you're in there, the tighter it's going to get."

The boy nodded, not even caring that his handler couldn't see it, and resumed his search, keeping his ears open for any commotion.

As the boy made his way down the halls, he came across a group of five men. He ducked behind the corner as they opened fire. Squeezing the trigger, he returned a hail of bullets to the men. There was a thud as the men dropped collectively to the ground, a few groaning.

The boy stepped out of cover, pointing his gun at the two survivors. "What the... It's just a kid," one man gasped.

"Yeah, a kid." He leveled his gun at the man's head. "Where are the files?"

"I ain't tellin' you shit," he spat.

"Oh, how disappointing." He pointed the Glock at the other survivor and pulled the trigger, painting the floor with his blood and gray matter. "Tell me or you're next."

"Oh shit!" the man exclaimed. "Room 2001, it's in a safe. I don't know the code." The boy returned his aim to the man's head. "Okay, okay! The code is 1985, the year the boss' son was born."

"Thanks." The boy embedded a round in the man's skull, and hightailed it out of there.

The occupants of room 2001 were doing little to keep quiet as the boy easily heard everything in the room.

"Let me go!" a feminine voice yelled. There were sounds of a struggle.

"Ha! We couldn't let our bargaining chip go. It's you they're here for." The struggling increased followed by the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back. "Settle down! We wouldn't want to shoot those pretty little shins now would we?"

The girl gasped and the sounds of struggling ceased. _Damn, they have a hostage. This complicates things._ The boy rubbed his temples with his free hand. _3, 2, 1, Go!_

He kicked the door open and shot the three men in the open. The fourth, the boss from the looks of it, was using the girl as a shield.

The boss's eyes widened, as did the girl's. "So the government's sending kids to do its dirty work huh? Well it doesn't matter. I won't let you have her. She's my ticket outta here."

"I'm not here for the girl. I'm here for the files." He tilted his head in the safe's direction. "1985, right?"

The man's jaw dropped as he left himself open. "How did you..." He never finished as a bullet passed through his skull. The girl let out a scream as the man slumped to the floor.

The boy walked over to the safe as the girl rushed up to him. She found herself facing the barrel of his gun.

"I thought you were here to save me," she gasped. The boy just held up a finger, signaling her to give him a moment, before keying in the code.

"Damn," he muttered, walking over to the dead boss's body.

"What is it?" She got her answer when he dragged the body over to the safe as if it were nothing and pressed the right index finger on a green spot of the entry area. The safe beeped and opened up.

The boy shuffled through the folders in the safe and threw a few into his messenger bag. He also made sure to grab the stacks of bills laying in there. _Jackpot._

"I've got the files," he said into the radio, then looked at the girl, "but I've found a hostage they've been holding. A girl, maybe 16, looks about five feet five inches tall with long brown hair and blue eyes. What should I do with her?" The girl looked noticeably nervous.

"Sounds like Senator Russell's daughter," his handler responded. "She was kidnapped a few days ago. Take her with you, and hightail it to the roof, we'll be touching down in two."

He checked the ammo in the magazine before addressing the girl. "Follow me. We have to be on the roof in two minutes."

"R-right." He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door.

Dashing out the doorway, he caught three men off guard, exhausting the ammo in the magazine. Swapping out for a new one, he grabbed her hand again and dragged her down the halls.

With his enhanced senses, combined with the narrow halls, he was able to get a jump on anyone who tried to ambush them. The five he just took down learned that the hard way.

He cautiously opened the door to the stairwell to find no one there. "There's a man waiting on the roof for you," his handler noted over the radio.

"Roger. I've got him," he replied, stopping the girl in the middle of the stairwell. "Stay here."

"Okay," the girl mumbled, fright evident in her voice.

He rushed up the stairs and kicked the door open, sending splinters everywhere. The boy unloaded several rounds into the man before he could act. "Clear," he yelled to the girl as the chopper landed on the roof for the two.

The boy helped her onto the chopper before climbing on himself, sliding in right next to her. He pulled the files out of his messenger bag and handed them to his handler.

"Good job," she replied with a smile, "mission accomplished." The boy accepted his praise and stared out the window, a smile on his face.

"Thank you," the girl shouted to the boy, "you saved me."

"It was nothing," he responded, not even looking at her.

"Well it means a lot to me. Really." He turned to look at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. "My name is Abigail Russell. It would mean a lot if you could tell me your name."

He looked to his handler, who seemed to be paying great attention to the conversation. Her slight nod told him all he needed to know. "Nero. My name is Nero."


	2. Back to the Start

Chapter II: Back to the Start

2 Years Ago

"Sir, a miss Wendy Proietti is here to see you," the secretary said over the intercom.

"Good, send her in," the man responded back. The door opened to reveal a woman with medium length, dark brown hair.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

"Yes, sit down Wendy; we have much to talk about." The woman did as asked. "Now Wendy, you know that we at the FBI strive for perfection, to be the best."

"Yes sir, I have been doing my best," she responded.

"I know, and that's why this is so hard," he replied uninterestedly. "Due to budget cuts, we've been forced to get rid of a few people. You are one of them. I'm sorry."

The woman's eyes widened. "B-but..." she trailed off.

"Look, if it were my choice, I would have kept you on. But it was the higher ups' decision. Again, I'm sorry." He didn't look very sorry.

Wendy grew angry. "Fine," she growled throwing her badge and ID onto the desk.

"If you need a reference, I'd be glad to give you one."

"I don't need anything from you!" she yelled as she stormed out of the office.

* * *

Wendy looked down at her watch for the tenth time since she sat down at the table. _He's late,_ she thought bitterly. A tall man with strawberry blond hair and blue eyes strode over to the table. "Finally."

"Heh, sorry I'm late. My boss had to speak to me."

"Yours too?" she griped.

"Hey, what's wrong? You look upset."

"The FBI let me go," she grumbled. The man looked surprised.

"That makes what I came here for a lot easier," he laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"My boss wanted me to see if I could persuade you to leave the FBI for us. I can guarantee the pay's worth it."

Wendy frowned. "You still haven't told me what you do," she muttered.

"I can't go into details, just that it's a new part of the CIA. Classified information and what not. Think it over and if you're interested, meet me here at noon." He got up to leave. "See ya tomorrow."

Wendy chuckled. "Ya know Rog, you haven't changed a bit."

"Ha, just be here okay. You're not going to get another offer."

* * *

Wendy walked up to the standard meeting place. "I'm here Roger. Tell me about the job."

Roger chuckled. "Straight to the point as always. I'm glad you decided to come here."

"Dancing around the subject as always. You know Rog; I just lost my job yesterday. I need a new one. Now, if you can get me one, the least you could do is tell me about it," Wendy replied hotly.

"Not now, we've got somewhere to be. You drive."

"Can I at least get some coffee?"

"No time," he replied, slipping into the passenger seat of Wendy's car. She rolled her eyes as she walked over to the driver's side.

* * *

Wendy tried to gain her bearings as she followed Roger's directions. They seem like they're just made up off the top of his head. She glanced over to the passenger seat. "Is there anything you can tell me about this job?"

He thought about it for a minute. "It's a counter-terrorism unit," he replied. "Pull over, we're here."

The car came to a halt on the side of the road, and the two climbed out. Wendy looked at the building before them. "It's a hospital," she muttered. "You took me to a hospital."

"Yeah," Roger replied but held her back. "Before we go in, are you willing to relocate?"

"I don't want to, but I will if I have to. Why?"

"The job is not in this state. Obviously, you'd need to move to where it is."

"And where is that?" she asked impatiently as they walked up the stairs.

"Not now," he responded. "And you really need to work on your patience. You'll need it for the job."

Wendy's frown deepened. "No wonder you are such good friends with Antonio. You both love to annoy me."

As the two walked in, they were greeted by an older man in an expensive looking suit. His hair was a salt and pepper gray, and his eyes a dull green. "Ah, Mr. McCoy, I see you've brought her."

"Yes Sir."

"Good, follow me, both of you." The older man led them to a small conference room off to the side.

Standing in the room were two people, a shorter woman with shoulder lenght red hair and glasses, and a taller blond haired man. The woman stepped forward. "Its clean sir, the room is secure," she explained.

"Good." He motioned to the round table. "Please, sit down." Wendy grabbed a chair and sat down, the older man sitting opposite her. The others remained standing.

The older man spoke first. "There is a government organization that uses cyberneticly enchanced children as assassins. We don't know too much about it, but we do know that terrorist activities have been declining in that country. We've taken this as a sign that things have been going well," he explained.

He opened the briefcase in front of him and pulled out several folders. "We would like to create an agency of our own, the United States Organization for the Treatment and Welfare of Orphans, and make you the first handler. I realize this is a hard thing to ask, but you are highly recommended." He handed her the folders. "All of these children have no families, no future. They will die, unless you accept the offer I am giving you."

Wendy looked surprised at what she had heard. The idea of using children had mortified her, but if she didn't accept the offer, they all would die. It was a damned if you do, damned if you don't moment for her. "I can only choose one?" she asked tentatively as she opened the first folder.

The man nodded. "That's right. It wouldn't be very effective to have you spread out over several cyborgs."

"What about Roger? Is he going to have a cyborg?"

"No. He is part of the intelligence division."

She took her time examining every one of the folders, looking over every detail. Then she came to the last one. The photo caught her eye immediately. "Tell me," she asked, "is this photo accurate?"

"Yes, all photos are 100 accurate."

"So his eyes really are that black colored?"

"Well yes, but I don't see what..."

"I'll take him," she interrupted.

"I know why you chose him Wendy," Roger said calmly. "You can't replace him."

Wendy glared at him. "I'm not trying to replace him," she growled. "It's more about remembering him."

"Whatever you say Wendy. So what did you name the kid?"

Wendy looked through the glass at the black haired boy laying unconscious on the bed. "Nero. In case your Italian is rusty, it's the color black."

Roger laughed. "Kinda fitting in a way, with what he'll be doing. That hair and those eyes of his sure help his case too."

Wendy sighed. "I guess we'll see."


	3. A New Operation

Chapter III: A New Operation

Abigail Russell: Senator's daughter, good student, and just a few hours ago, hostage. Now, she's been pulled into a secret government organization.

"What you've seen, Miss Russell, is classified. I don't think I need to tell you the consequences you will receive if you let this get out. I think you understand."

Abigail gulped. "I understand." The old man in front of her was quite intimidating. She knew right away that he was the boss around here.

"Good. I've talked to your father. He wants you to stay here until he gets back." He turned his attention to the woman from the helicopter. "Miss Proietti, escort our guest to the dormitories."

The woman nodded and turned to Abigail with a smile. "Please, follow me."

She complied. _What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

Nero walked slowly into the dorm lobby, his hair damp from the shower. "Ugh, homework," he muttered under his breath as he sat down at a table containing things he laid out before hand.

"Hey Nero," he heard behind him, "you're back! How did the mission go?"

"Oh, hey Maggie. Not bad I guess," he replied, "just a little more complex then it should have been." Shuffling through the backpack before him, he pulled out a large, hardbound Math book and a notebook. He immediately opened up the book and flipped to a clean sheet in the notebook.

"Complex how?" Maggie questioned as she sat down across from him, auburn hair swaying.

Nero sighed as he placed his pencil down on the table. "Complex as in I rescued the daughter of one of our supporters."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad," Maggie responded. "If he's such a big supporter, I'm sure we would have gotten the mission sooner or later."

Nero frowned. "That's true, but I'm sure that in that mission, not only would I have been better equipped, but there would be more cyborgs on it too. I don't even want to think of what would have happened if something would have happened to her."

Maggie gave him a reassuring smile. "But nothing happened right? There's no reason to worry about what-ifs."

"I suppose you're right, but now I'll probably have to shake hands with this guy and listen to him ramble on about how he's so glad I saved his daughter," he muttered, becoming overly cheery at the last part.

"Nero!" Maggie scolded him, her amber eyes glaring. "That's not very nice. I'm sure he's relieved that his daughter is safe."

Nero frowned again. "That's not what I meant, it's just, he's a politician. He'll say whatever it takes to get supporters."

"Well if it benefits us, I don't see how it matters." Maggie had her hands on her hips.

"Look," he responded, "you haven't been around here long enough to actually meet any of them. They're all looking to further their career and dick over everyone else. I wouldn't be surprised if he used this to take the next presidential election."

Maggie sighed. "You're just stressed. I'll give you some time to yourself. Make sure you finish your homework, 'kay?"

"Yeah, sure," Nero replied as he picked up his pencil and started back on his homework.

* * *

Abigail followed Wendy through the facility. "Um, Miss Proietti, did my father mention if he was coming back soon?"

Wendy sighed audibly. "Actually, he said he was going to stay in Washington until he finishes business. He said that we were more then capable of protecting you."

"Thought so," Abigail muttered. "So my father knows about what goes on here?"

Wendy opened a door and led Abigail outside to go to the dorms. "He's one of our biggest supporters," Wendy replied. "Nero's not very fond of him actually," she added in with a laugh.

Abigail giggled. "He comes off as the serious type."

"Most of the time, but when he's not on a job, he's usually a lot more laid back. He takes his work very seriously. You should consider it an honor. It means he won't let anything happen to you."

"Wait, you mean he's going to be guarding me? What about school? Am I even going to be able to go?" Abigail continued rambling.

You're making a big deal out of nothing. Nero already goes to the same school that you do. The only difference will be Nero's presence. He's quite adept at fitting in with regular people his own age."

Abigail was stunned. "You mean to tell me the same person who killed all of those people goes to MY highschool? Aren't you worried that he may blow his cover? What if people find out?"

"You'd be surprised at how many governments use cyborgs," Wendy replied as she led Abigail into the dorm building.

Abigail shook her head. _She's avoiding the question._

Wendy led Abigail down a hall and stopped in front of a door in the middle of the hallway. "Here is your room."

Abigail looked around. The door looked fairly standard. The only thing setting it apart from the others was the blank nameplate on the wall beside it. "Thank you," she said gratefully. "Would you mind if I called my mom sometime soon?"

Wendy shook her head. "Not at all. I'm sure she would love to hear from you." She pulled a small black cell phone from her pocket and handed it to Abigail. "If you excuse me, I must find Nero and inform him of the recent events. You can give the phone to Nero when you are done if you don't see me first." As she moved to leave, she spotted another girl coming down the hallway.

"Oh, Wendy," she called, "what a coincidence. I just left Nero at the lounge. He's pretty grumpy right now."

"Thank you Maggie." Giving the girl a nod, Wendy left the two girls to themselves.

Abigail was surprised to recognize the girl. She was a sophomore at her school. They shared a study hall.

Maggie studied Abigail up and down. "Well that's interesting. Nero didn't tell me you were the one he rescued." She held out her hand. "My name is Maggie. It's nice to officially meet you."

"Uh, Abigail Russell. Likewise..." She awkwardly shook her hand.

"Someone's obviously shocked that people like me exist."

"It's not that," Abigail started. "You seem so human, and you can fit in with regular school girls."

"Of course. I'm not a robot," Maggie chuckled. "Tell you what, how about I explain it to you over some food."

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

Having finished his homework, Nero picked up his things and left for his dorm. He had had a talk with Wendy and she explained his new mission. _Bodyguard huh? The lack of weapons will be a bit of a challenge, but I should be fine. I can do this,_ he thought. _Yeah, I can do this._

* * *

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter as Maggie led Abigail to a table, a plate of food piled high in her hands. Maggie eye Abigail's plate warily. "That looks a little small. Are you sure you took enough food?"

"Well," she started, "this is a lot already. Are you sure you don't have too much?"

Maggie laughed. "Not at all. Oh oh, Angel! Over here!"

A pale skinned, dull blonde haired girl with her hair pulled into a ponytail strode over and sat down. She looked younger then them, maybe 12. "Hello Maggie." She took a look at Abigail. "I wasn't aware we were getting any new cyborgs in."

"Nah, she's not a cyborg. This is Abby. She's a civilian from my school. Nero saved her, so we're probably going to be watching after her for a while. Abby, this is my roommate Angel."

Angel took a bite from her large salad. "Interesting. It's nice to meet you Abby."

"Likewise." Abigail took a look at her own plate and compared it to that of Angel's. While both Maggie's and her own plate held several things picked out like a stake, french fries, and a garden salad, Angel's plate consisted only of a large salad, rivaling Maggie's plate in size. Instead of milk, Angel was drinking a glass of apple juice. "A vegetarian cyborg?"

"Vegan actually," Angel corrected. "She knows?"

"More or less," Maggie replied. "Speaking of which, I believe you had some questions?"

Abigail nodded slowly. "I wanted to know how you seem so... I don't know, normal. It's hard to believe you can kill people."

Angel laughed a little and raised her hand a bit. "I can answer this one. You see, we are still humans. We are just upgraded with cybernetic implants. Each of us has a handler that teaches us how to shoot and interact in public. Without them, we'd probably be dead right now." She tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt. "Besides, killing is our job." She cracked a smile, pink eyes sparkling. "Someone has to fight them. Why not us?"

Abigail laughed nervously. "Haha, right..."


End file.
